


first face (this face saw)

by Nagiru



Series: collect the stars [4]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, Relationship Study, Two-Shot, the character death is a canonical one btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 01:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20498282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nagiru/pseuds/Nagiru
Summary: The girl who waited and the story she told through pieces and bits of everything she'd ever loved.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really, really love Amy and the story she tells. And I was _really_ excited to write this...  
But then I started, didn't like it, and stopped. So I procrastinated _forever_ before finally finishing... part 1. Because I realized I only wrote about season 5 in the story I had written, and I wanted to write her death (because I'm a masochist like that), so this has 2 parts. It's a short two-shot, but it's still a two-shot. It's finished by now, btw, but I should warn you that there was a break between writing ch1 and ch2, so it's a bit... dissonant.
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who and characters do not belong to me.**

**Part 1**

Amelia Pond. Like a name in a fairy tale. Just seven, so very _Scottish_, so _ginger_, and so… so…

She was the reminder of things long gone. She was a little girl, just a child, crying out for help, and she was someone he could _help_. He could help her. This little girl, this little blip of _fire_, this small thing that offered him everything she had and requested only that he _heard her out_.

Amelia Pond. Like a name in a fairy tale.

Of course, he somehow managed to screw things up with her in record time, and five minutes became _twelve whole years_, and he lost her. Lost his little Amelia, with the name of a fairy tale and the hair of fire and the ability to make him food in the middle of the night.

Instead, he got Amy Pond. Jaded, bitter, _angry_ Amy Pond. Just as ginger. Just as Scottish. Just as beautiful.

Already beyond trusting him.

_(for one moment, he felt relief at that. At last, he had managed to break his bonds before he could screw someone’s life up. At **last** he’d be able to walk away and not leave behind a lost, frightened person who needed help. At last, he had cut all his options without even **trying**…_

_In the next moment, he felt regret; what was the cost to this? The happiness of a child? The **sanity** of a girl who grew up sure she was mad? The life of a little girl with the name like a fairy tale? He knew from experience; no one just wakes up and thinks ‘oh, I like this name better’.)_

Except she didn’t. Wasn’t. Beyond trusting him, that is.

Because, apparently, she was too _Scottish _to know fear. Too brave and too _kind_, and couldn’t allow a single wrong do her away.

Instead, she took to his side like a fish to water, and managed to not only irritate him on her very first travel — but also to show him wrong, all at the same time. She walked off like a queen in her palace, stood proud before a_ real queen_, and saved a space whale (_“the last of his kind… and it only made him kind,”_ she said, and he hated how it made him feel so guilty, so _wrong-footed_. It also drove to home how much he _needed_ her). All in a single day.

Then, as if to test her, to _really_ put her through the works, he took her to the _Daleks_. Those hideous, terribly _wrong_ things, and she…

She just showed herself to be _better_ than even his wildest imaginations. Sharp. Brilliant. Bossy. _Beautiful_.

And so very, very _ginger_.

She stood by him — _before_ him, at times — proud and secure, and let him know she would not allow him to falter again. She took him through his worst enemies, his greatest fears, and she never looked at him with… disgust or fear or…

_(disappointment, the worst of all)_

She was perfect. She was… everything he wanted and everything he needed and she…

She wanted him. And she was nothing like his last friends. She wasn’t afraid to let him know it. She wasn’t afraid of _acting _on it. No, she pushed him against his own TARDIS and, just like she did to everything else, she _took_. She took what she wanted, and she demanded _more_, and he…

He couldn’t allow himself. Not this. Not this girl whom he had already failed. Not this girl who was so beautiful and amazing and brilliant. Not one more person for him to love and _die_.

So, he took her fiancé with them. Her ridiculous but stupidly _kind_ fiancé, and reminded himself of _why_ he couldn’t waver, _why_ he couldn’t just…

_(it was hard. It was hard to look at her, look at them, and not **want**, not **desire**. Just for a moment. Just… something fleeting._

_Except, he didn’t do fleeting. If he allowed himself, he knew it would be too much. It would be forever._

_But he could never do forever, as his dreams reminded him sharply before their eyes.)_

When he — Amy’s fiancé, her _Rory_ — sacrificed himself to keep Amy safe… well. It was easier to tell himself off.

She already had _that_; what else could she desire for?

_(the world. The **universe**, even. And she deserved it. She deserved all of it._

_But he couldn’t be the one to give her that, either.)_

So, he took her on more adventures, fulfilled every single one of her fleeting desires, and kept thinking that this was all _his fault, his own damn fault_. She had had the perfect person for her. She had had love and a wedding to attend, and he… like always, he fucked that all up.

He couldn’t understand why she still trusted him. Why she was still ready to sacrifice herself for his sake — but it happened anyway. At the Pandorica’s gates.

_(another failure. How could he not realize it? How could he…)_

The cracks all over the universe, destroying Time, and it was all his fault. All his fault this little girl, little Amelia, had been scared at one point. All his fault Amy’s fiancé had died. All his fault that all these monsters from all over the universe _banded together_.

_(all his fault.)_

Yet she still stood by him, grinning cockily and demanding he correct it all, and he…

He was incapable of failing her again.

_(he did it anyway)_

Amelia Pond, like a name in a fairy tale. The girl who had grown up with the universe in her dreams, all of Time and Space leeching off her memories.

Amy Pond, the girl who commanded the stars to her desire.

He had failed her again; allowed her to die. Allowed her Rory to become a _thing_. He had allowed the universe to break.

Yet she still trusted him.

He couldn’t let that go to waste.

So… He saved her.

_(some would say he locked her up for two thousand years, instead. They’d be right. However, at the end of it, she was alive again, so he would count his victories, just this once. Just with her.)_

… And then, he sacrificed himself.

For her — or, well, not for her. For the universe. To right the wrongs he had caused.

He tossed himself into the atmosphere, allowed himself to die, and just… thought of fixing things. Of keeping everything the way it was supposed to be. Of putting the stars back on the universe, of righting the lives he had wronged, of bringing back everything he had devoured.

_(for a moment, he allowed himself to hope. Hope he’d be able to fix even things from **before** all these cracks. Before his TARDIS. Before…_

_He knew it was all codswallop, though.)_

He tossed himself out there and created a Second Big Bang, all centred in himself — and through it all, he allowed himself to hope.

Amelia Pond, like a name in a fairy tale. Amelia Pond, who grew with the stars in her mind, the universe in her dreams. Amelia Pond, whose memories fuelled the whole of Time and Space.

Amy Pond, whose memory now brought her everything she ever wanted.

Including, it turned out, her imaginary friend.

_(he knew he had paved that path himself. Knew his stories and gifts were bound to end just like this. Knew it would mean he’d **live**, once again._

_It had been a difficult decision, but, in the end, she won, as she would always do._

_Amy Pond, the most ginger person he ever met.)_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have part 2. Not sure I like this part quite as much as I liked part 1, but... it's finished at last, at least?

**Part 2**

Somehow, Amy Pond (never, ever Williams) was enough of a deterrent to even his worst episodes. She was like a balm, letting him _forget_, letting him focus on everything but his bad choices.

Except, of course, when his bad choices brought pain to _her_.

He probably should have stepped away. He should have done it back when he first failed her, honestly, but… he’d always been weak to his impulses and desires, and he simply didn’t _want_ to be alone. If he were to continue, he required — simply put — _company_.

Even if it meant making her watch him die, it turns out.

He’d known there was something wrong from the very moment he met them in that diner and they kept _staring _at him — especially with all he poking and the ridiculous question of _how old_ he was.

_(how old, how old — he wondered how old he’d told them he was, when they first asked. He wondered how old he thought himself, by then. He wondered if anything came close to his truth…)_

Still, it was good to have it confirmed. Even if it also meant confirming he somehow managed to lose his _best friend_ along the way.

_(always. He was incapable of helping himself; incapable of helping **them**… how could he fuck up so much, so many times?)_

He lost her. He lost her, and more importantly, he cost her her _baby_. She had been so worried about it, had been so _excited_ about it, and the Doctor… the Doctor had stolen her all that excitement, all the silly worries, and given her fear and despair, just because he had allowed his ego to become too _big_.

Too dangerous.

Once upon a time, he’d swore to himself, ‘_never be cruel, never be cowardly’_. Somehow, he always managed to break both without even trying. And somehow, it was always his friends who paid the price.

After all he put Amy through — and just after her marriage, because if he really thought about _everything_, he might never stop —, he knew what he had to do. Before it was too late.

So, he stepped away. He… took his time. He tried his best for her, tried to find her daughter he had stolen away from her, but did so with distance between them. A few nods to let her know he was still _trying_, but also… enough distance that he could convince himself he _could do this_.

He _could_.

_(he couldn’t. He knew that even before he caved in and went to her at the first request)_

It didn’t really surprise him when even something entirely innocent ended up in tatters because of him. But, well; at least he found Amy her missing daughter.

_(broken and hurt and oh-so painfully beautiful, and all his fault; but he found her)_

Still, he needed to learn to _stay away_. For her sake. For her family’s sake. For _her life’s _sake.

If not for his own sanity’s sake.

He lingered — he lingered just long enough to almost lose Amy entirely _again_, just long enough to have the Universe throw in his face what would happen if he _didn’t_ stay away, just long enough to remind himself _why_ he was doing this. He lingered; but he, finally, after making up his mind for one last time, stepped away.

_(and, just to be sure, he broke her faith in him, in the process._

_He could barely believe — after all this time, after everything he did… she still believed in him. She still held so tight a faith he was enough to serve as the last meal of a dying creature._

_Just enough faith to attract all the sins of an unwilling monster…_

_And he wasn’t sure he was talking about the Minotaur.)_

Just to return to her a few centuries later, fear clouding his mind and clogging his throat, because it was here.

His time. Was here. Staring right at his face. And he had a timeline to maintain.

He didn’t wish to do it; he didn’t wish to go where he was needed, didn’t wish to call his friends, call _Amy_, to see it…

Bus he also really, really wanted to. Have her there, at least.

_(he told himself it was because she was needed there. Because if he didn’t, time would die, and it would all be his fault._

_He couldn’t convince himself of it.)_

Even if he really didn’t want to die.

**he did it anyway**

When death stared him in his face, when he was sure he’d die, despite all his fail safes…

He remembered her. Her face, her smile, her eyes, her hair. So ginger. So fierce. So… _Amy_.

He died, and he did not die, all at the same time, and he broke time and space and the universe, and he fixed it all through his careful planning, and he kept imagining her hair, her crying eyes, and he thought, for one passing moment, that maybe it was enough.

_(maybe surviving was enough; maybe the time was enough; maybe…)_

He went back to her, like clockwork.

Or, better said, she was pulled to him again, by his worst nightmares, and he realized he couldn’t do this.

Not without her.

He’d made up his mind centuries ago, had decided on it when he saw what it would mean to her if he _didn’t_, but he had always been weak-minded. Always been a coward. And when push came to shove, he always caved in.

Amy was there — right there —, and he just couldn’t _not_. Couldn’t stay away, even with all his promises and the troubles staring him in the eye.

So he didn’t.

_(he was just proven she was already in danger, whether he travelled with her or not. Why should he stay away, then? At least, close together he’d be able to protect her. At least, like this, he’d…)_

He told himself it was just for one more trip. Just one more, for the sake of their memories together. Just one more, for the sake of all their _history_…

He didn’t think anyone bought that, not even when he took along more people than he ever intended to. Not even when he almost died and he remembered _he couldn’t, he shouldn’t, he…_

He told himself, _just this one more_. And he kept telling himself that.

Until Manhattan.

He always told himself, _just one more_, and he never meant it. He wanted her close by, after all. He wanted _Amy_, the brightest fire in the universe, and he wanted…

_(… to be able to give her his goodbyes.)_

He wanted Amelia. The little girl he failed within moments of knowing. The girl he’d loved from their first meeting, the girl who’d died for him, the girl who’d died _waiting_ for him, the girl…

The girl who now died by her own choice, a grin on her face and a letter in his hands.

Amelia Pond, like a name in a fairy tale. The first face this face saw.

She’d been born in that moment when he came to her prayers without even realizing. She’d been born his friend, his family, his innocent love. She’d been born under the light of the cracks of his own mistakes.

And… and she grew in the universe, with her dreams filled by other worlds, with her memories feeding the life of the second Big Bang.

She grew in the danger and the _different_. Grew by giving up what she didn’t want but secretly craved, by seeking always _more_, by being the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, the one who travelled with him and gave him hell for being anything but _right_. She grew in the light of stars, in the whisper of the people she saved through sheer will power, in the stories told in her mind and his hearts.

She was born and grown in the cosmos, a queen in his home. She was perfect and eternal and…

… and dead.

Because, she died. She died that afternoon when Rory died. She died that night when the universe was reborn. She died that morning when she gave up on the love of her life. She died _every single day_ when she didn’t have her daughter, all because of him.

And she died, at last, when she chose her love and family to everything he once offered her.

_Amelia Pond. Like a name in a fairy tale._

She was born a child of stories — and she died just like that; a story in a page, a tale to be heard and repeated.

A request. Of her Raggedy Man, who’d never deserved the faith she’d given him, and who could finally give her something in return. Something simple but oh-so dangerous.

_Hope._

In that one moment… in that moment of fear and sorrow and so many regrets…

She just asked for hope.

How could he ever refuse her that?

_(how could he ever refuse her anything?)_

She was born in his hearts when he first met her. He was born through her eyes, when she was the first face he ever saw, this time around.

And then she died, and he… he lost his purpose as her best friend. As her imaginary friend. As her _raggedy man_.

And she… she was the first face this face saw. She was the queen of his stories, the thrum in his hearts, and she was…

_Gone._

He supposed it was just expected.

There was no forever, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Second part should be up tomorrow or the day after.


End file.
